Kryptonite
by Caitlynnn
Summary: A story before the school shooting and what led up to it. Getting into the mindset of a killer. Are people truly born evil or is that just something they turn into? A Tate drabble. ONESHOT.


**I really wanted to do another school shooting fic. And I always sort of wanted to get into the head of Tate and the mindset of his actions. Well at least try. I was reading a book about Columbine and I couldn't help think of Tate… and Ryan Murphy for having balls to do such a touchy subject. I'm glad Ryan did it though. It was really great. **

**This just kind of another drabble… I just got it in my head and decided to write it… **

**So here we go. **

**I don't own American Horror Story…**

**1994. **

**Before. **

**-Tate. **

He was up to no good, which was what principal said. They sat down in the office. Constance her phony smile on her face, pretending everything was okay, Tate looking down at his sneakers. Wondering how long it took to put all the patterns on them. He was really paying attention.

"He hasn't come to school in two weeks. And when he does he falls asleep in class." That's what the principal said again, his words spitting out of them. They just kept coming out and it took Tate everything he had to not just punch the guy. He knew he was already in hot water. He didn't need to be scorching by the end of this meeting.

"I assure you my son is just in one of those phases." Constance said, her smile still there. Of course, Tate thought, it was just one of those phases. That's what it would always be to her. Tate was just one of those phases. Everyone seemed to love Constance. No one really saw what a monster she was at home. If Tate could he would steal Addie away and they would go somewhere else in California… like Sacramento or something. Just not here in La. Not here at this school.

"Tate? What do you have to say for yourself?" His principal beamed at him, resting back in his chair. Tate took a second to answer. Constance pinched him. He looked back and forth between his mom and the principal. He had a small smile on his face as he said:

"Fuck you."

And that was the end of the meeting.

Principals don't like it when you tell them to fuck off. Tate was suspended for two weeks.

**II.**

The halls were long and the walls filled with posters and sign up sheets. Tate came back to school after the two weeks and walked like a zombie. That's what he was feeling these days. Like he was some sort of zombie. He wasn't sure why he felt like that. Just sometimes people feel numb and sad for no reason. That's not a bad thing. But some people say they're just hiding or suppressing something.

Well no shit.

He bumped into a few students. One of them was a football jock. He looked at Tate and stopped him. "Whoa buddy are you okay?" The jock asked. Tate looked around for a second and then pointed to himself. "Me? Oh…" He shook his head, and sighed because he was being stupid. Who else would he be talking to? "Yeah, yeah I'm good." He shrugged and walked past him. The jock boy looked back at Tate, shrugging and went along with his day.

That was weird, Tate had thought to himself. No one really gave a shit about Tate. Not really at least. He preferred that sometimes. He liked himself better than some other people. Which was quite sad because he actually loathed himself. He wondered all the time why he was still here.

The bathroom stall was calling him and he had sat on the toilet, listening to the guys pee in the urinals until he knew he was alone. Tate had this weird thing where he couldn't cut himself when people were near by. He waited for the next person to leave. He examined the stall and it had numbers of girls home phone numbers and the comments were innocent. Well… kind of.

He had heard the last flush and heard the door open and then close. He sighed as he got out his razors and rolled up his sweater sleeve. He got the razor and slowly went across his wrist. It bled at first touch. He had carved "T". Luckily he had toilet paper as he pressed it onto his skin. It kept bleeding for a while. Then he decided to just finish it off. He carved "aint." Right next to the "T". It had spelled out taint. He always liked that word. He prided himself on it.

His arm was now bleeding profusely, he had gone out of the stall and gotten a paper towel wet and put it on the bleeding skin. It kept bleeding for a while until it finally stopped. The word was a flushed pink. He knew they would be visible tomorrow.

But for some reason he didn't care.

**III. **

He wasn't sure when he started to have these vivid thoughts. For a while they drove him crazy. He wrote stories upon stories on a website he created on how he would kill people. He wasn't sure why. But he loved describing people's gory death. They were always gory. That's how he liked them. Gory, bloody, pleading for help. He would just sit back and smile. Feeling no remorse. Not once did he ever feel bad. But it wasn't just anybody. It was everyone he… sort of liked. It was totally weird.

There was this one girl in his English class. Totally playing the Goth part. He had sit next to her all of his class and never talked to her once, but he loved listening to her opinions. She was such a blunt bitch. Everyone paid attention to what she had to say. But it was sort of hard to be her friend. She was the type of person you had to impress before she even thought about giving you the time of day.

But he couldn't help thinking about getting his hands on her and squeezing the life out of her. He just wanted to hurt her so badly. Sometimes, when Tate thought about certain girls at school, he would look at them and he would think that they are beautiful, and he really wanted to fuck them hard and then kill them. He didn't know why. But it really made him mad. And after a while, they were just a normal thing. He wanted to kill them. It was simple. So he devised a plan. He had been planning it for a year of what he'd do. At first it was just a thought. But then that thought had turned into an obsession to a need.

What dummy hands a kid a gun? He knew people; he got around it seemed like. For a few months he just kept the gun hidden and safe. Every once in a while he'd take it out and just looks at it. Look at all the damage he could do. He imagined himself walking down the hall in a cool jacket with a bigass gun at his side. He really loved the mental image. It even gave him the chills thinking about it.

**IV. **

He wasn't sure what drew him to the snare of the cocaine. He wasn't sure why he wanted to rebel so much. Well of course he knew, he just wanted to get the rise out of his mother. But he only blocked out his reasons because his conscious was giving him a hard time about it. His mind drove him crazy sometimes.

His did at least. There was a constant flow of voices in his head and he couldn't get them out. Some of them told him to remember who he was but he didn't want to. He didn't want to remember who he was. It was too scary. It was just too hard. He didn't like thinking about it very much.

"Sixty-five." The dealer said. He sighed as he waited for Tate to give him the money. "Sixty-five?" Tate shook his head. "It was fifty-five last week." He told him, getting the money out and putting sixty-five down. He waited for a second as the dealer went into the back room and brought him the cocaine.

Tate looked at it for a second and nodded his head, putting it in his bag. He walked out of the house and looked around him. He always felt like there were people watching him especially cops. He looked everywhere just making sure he wasn't being followed.

Once he had got home he was sitting on his bed, looking at the map of the school and he was figuring out which way would be good to go. Which ways was easier to escape and if he was able to make it out alive. Which was what he hoped for. He was a little unfocused though. His mind was reverting to the drugs, which were still in his bag. He didn't know what to really do. He had a dinner with his mom and Larry and he didn't really want to go to it. He hated his mom with everything in him and Larry wasn't any better.

He kept scratching the top of his head until he couldn't stand it anymore. He got the coke out of his bag and held the little baggy of it. "Okay." He whispered. He went over to the desk and he sat down on the chair.

The door swung open and Addie was right there in the light of the hallway. She had a smile on her face. "Addie." Tate said, nodding to her. He looked at her while he put the drugs in the drawer of his desk. "What's up?" He asked. His mind was in a fog and he was getting anxious. That's what happens when you're on something so powerful. You begin to rely on it to make you feel "normal."

"What are you doing?" She stepped in his dark and dank room and sat down on the bed. "Is this your school?" She asked holding up the map of it. He couldn't lie to his sister. He loved her. Even though he didn't show it much. Or really he didn't show it at all; he loved her, and wanted the best for her. But he knew that she would be stuck here if Constance didn't let her live a little.

"Yeah." Tate said, running a hand through his hair. He looked at the drawer where the drugs were and he was thinking about bolting. Not that he didn't enjoy his sisters company. But once you're on drugs you become a different person. Someone who you yourself even recognize.

"Mom is making me mad." She said, fixing her hair and looking around his room.

"What did the bitch… I mean Constance do this time?" He laughed a little and Addie giggled at him. He was trying to lighten the mood because she seemed really upset. "She won't let me wear make up." She got pink lip-gloss out of her pocket and put it on the bed.

Tate didn't really know what to say. He didn't really know how to react to what his sister was telling him. He never had to deal with that. But his sister was sensitive when it came to beauty. He always felt bad because people always teased her. He tried to block it out as best as he could. But he remembered once when he was in seventh grade someone called her retarded and that really set Tate off. No one was going to call his sister retarded. He hated that word; retarded. He would never use it. He would never say. It was like a blasphemy. Especially if it was being referred to with Addie. He had to go to a new school after that fight.

So Tate just nodded. And grimaced a little bit. "Natural beauty suits you well." He said as he turned around to his desk. He didn't look back at her. He didn't want to. Because there was something in the bottom of his stomach, it was like a huge hole that was opening up and he didn't like how it felt.

It was guilt.

When he finally did look back she was gone. He noticed the little tube of something pink on his bed.

It was the lip-gloss. He looked at it for a second as he put that in his jacket…

**Day of school shooting. **

**-Students. **

The day had started out slow for Steph. She had a free period so she decided to spend it in the library. She had a report she didn't finish the night before and it was due today. She really didn't feel like doing it. But she knew that she better. Her mom was always on her about her work. She hated how there was so much fucking pressure to graduate.

She figured she's a senior. She made it this far she can handle this. She can handle it… right? Sometimes she wasn't so sure she could handle it. But she was so stubborn. She would make herself handle it even if she didn't want to.

"Here is the book you're looking for." The librarian smiled at her and she smiled back for a second as she turned around. The kids around her looked at her like she was a freak. She wore all black and she liked it like that. The black was like a safety blanket for her. Her make resembling her clothing was a statement; she didn't give a fuck.

She flipped through the pages and decided that she just wasn't going to do it. But that pissed her off. Of course she was going to do it. She HAD to do it she felt like.

Kyle and Chloe were in the corner they were "studying" but it sounded like two seals mating and it annoyed the fuck out of her. "Fuck off." Steph told them getting up out of her chair and moving somewhere else.

Amir was sitting by himself and Steph decided to sit next to him. He was the outcast and he was okay with it. He had big plans for college. He could literally go anywhere and they would accept him, probably. He liked knowing his future. There was just something comforting about it. Knowing your future and knowing that you WILL succeed.

Amir looked at Steph but went back to his computer, repeating the information back in his head. He kept doing this for a while, and then he looked at his watch. "He's late." He whispered to himself and Steph heard it. She put the book down and turned to Amir. "Who's late?" She wanted to be friendly. And caring was being friendly, right?

"Tate Langdon. I tutor him in math." He shrugged. "He's late again. He was late last week and the week before that." He sighed looking at his clock once more.

"I know Tate." Steph said, looking down at the table. "He's in one of my classes." It was English class. Tate had interesting ideas, he would be a good writer was Steph's first thought on him. But she didn't say anything to him. She liked English class, she got to express her rage and anger out on her teacher who loved listening to people's opinions and lucky for him she was very opinionated.

Steph had gotten up out of the chair and went over to the biographies. She figured she could try and get something done before her next class. The librarian smiled at her as she passed the desk and she just nodded. Kyle and Chloe were shoving each other playfully and she rolled her eyes at them.

Then she heard the gunshot. Everyone froze for a second. Then another. The door swung open and Kevin had gotten the chair and put it over the door. There was blood on his hands and he was shaking so bad his teeth were chattering. Kyle had gotten up and asked, "What the hell dude?"

"Somebody is shooting up the school. Ju- just shooting people."

"Wait, are you hit? Where are you hit?" The librarian asked.

"Shit I don't know, I don't know that's not my blood. I was right next to Mark Vinsteven and the guy shot him in the freaking skull."

Steph interrupted and said, "Who's doing this?"

"I don't know!" He snapped back.

"We need to get the hell out of here." Kyle was running toward the door then another gunshot and he froze.

Amir had hid in the librarian station, Chloe and Kyle under the Table, and Kevin by the chairs. Steph had been hiding behind bookshelves waiting for the right moment to bolt.

It happened fast; the killer, whoever he was trying to get in. Kyle had urged Steph to get the door but she was too scared so the librarian had to do… and he was shot.

That was the end of everything. They knew they were going to die. And that was the sad part. Knowing that you are going to die and you know that there is no way to stop it no matter how hard you try. No one knew that his or her life was going to end today. Many other people are faced with the same tragedy that day. A ninth grader, a tenth grader, a junior and a senior. They were all going to die. So what are you supposed to think of your last moments? You lived your whole life whatever the lifespan of your life is, and you are at the pivotal point. The end zone. Do you look back on your life? Are you proud of what you've done to see it go to waste? Of course you don't think this. Or you try hardest not to think of it because you are mainly focusing on living first. Your survival instincts kick in.

The door swings open and you see who is. And the monster.

Tate Langdon.

**-Tate Langdon. **

When you're fueled on hate nothing can stop you. Because you begin to replay all those things that have made you angry in your mind and you can't help but react to it. Of course people react in different ways. There is the healthy way: talking about it. And then there is the stupid way: impulsiveness. Humans often tend to take the second. And sometimes that's all you need to do to let it out. But this? This was no excuse. But when you're on something so immensely huge there is no thinking there is just doing. His head was in a fog and his thoughts were out there. He knew what he was going to do be doing for months almost a year in advance. He knew that people were going to die today. And he knew that no one was going to stop him including himself.

He strolled down the halls targeting certain people… the people he liked. His first crush, her name was Jane. She was nice when they were seven. She gave him cookies when someone pushed him off the slide and he fell down and hurt his knees. He was bleeding but Jane had helped him and then gave him some of her snacks. They've been going to the same school for years and he always had a soft spot for her. She was the first one to go.

The next one was named Daniel. He had no idea why he liked him but he did. He was the only other person at that school that had an ounce of "good music taste" he liked Nirvana and that's all that seemed to matter to him. There were other things of course, but that was a main thing. Tate remembers specific moments of them eating lunch together discussing music and then life and all the madness that came with it. Tate shared how he hated school and Daniel just listened. That was really cool of him, Tate had thought as he shot him point blank. There was no remorse. Nothing. Absolutely nothing he felt.

Not every person he shot he had feelings for. There were just some that annoyed the shit out of him. Especially ones that bullied him a long time ago. He still kept those grudges. And everytime he thought about them the bandaged wound would come undone again because he remembered telling Constance and she didn't give a shit. Plus his father wasn't around so he cut himself to make the hurting stop. He just wanted to be noticed. He felt like there was so much pressure. Especially with Addie, he just wanted to be a strong brother and the protector because his daddy couldn't protect him anymore. Not that he did in the first place.

He had tried to open the library door and he couldn't get in. He sighed as he tried the other door. Someone was holding him back. He had pulled the trigger and he finally opened the door. For a while he just kept walking like it was any normal day, whistling to himself until he heard a whimper. He saw who it was and he recognized her. The girl from his English class. He liked her bitch attitude and that she didn't take people's crap when they tried. She had too much good in her and she probably didn't even believe but Tate definitely saw it. There has to be some good in people, right? Or is "good" just completely hopeless? He had pulled the trigger and she went down. He looked at her for a second and he smiled a little. At least he was taking her away from here. There were plenty of other demented people, right? Not just him…. But he wasn't so sure he wanted the answer to this.

Down the list of kids he went. They all went down and they all died. Amir, who had helped him in his math. Kyle, who was nice to him and didn't have to be that one-day a year ago, He noticed that Tate wasn't having a good day and he asked what's up? Kyle probably didn't care what was really wrong, but he asked anyway. He didn't have to. Tate wouldn't tell anybody but that meant a lot to him. Just someone simply asking. And then there was Chloe. Obviously she didn't want to die. But they looked so happy together. Its hard to die knowing you're leaving someone you love behind. Tate figured he was doing them a favour.

Because in Tate's own twisted way, this made sense.

**V. **

Something triggered in Tate's mind that day. An evil darkness filling in the empty hole in him. Some people fill it with lust, others with music, or perhaps paintings, writing. But there are some people who are filled with this pure hate in hate in them. They fill themselves up with it because happiness seems like such a foreign thing to him.

People shouldn't experience tragedy but we still do and we can't change it. Maybe we're all born with tragedy. It's inevitable. It may not happen to someone specifically, but to someone close. And if you love them enough it affects you, too. But that's not the point. People don't understand most evil peoples actions. They don't want to face the facts that it happens. And maybe Tate was once a good kid. Just…. Things happen.

He ignored his pains so much because it was easier. Cutting himself was easier because he took it out on him than on other people… because he didn't want other people to hurt. He didn't want people to see Tate in pain because that was showing weakness. And he couldn't show weakness. He didn't know what was so bad about weakness. Maybe weakness is really strength. Having it all together isn't what its cracked up to be. Losing it sometimes was good and Tate was the testimony of that. He used to throw things when he got mad. He just can't remember when throwing things got to a point where it was throwing people.

The darkness took a hold of him, like it usually takes a hold of people. Good people fall down the rabbit hole sometimes. They can't seem to get back up. At least that's how it went for Tate. He couldn't get back up and he liked it where he was. Staying down the rabbit hole was fun for a while. Until it drove him mad. He snapped in half. He couldn't even look at Constance without wanting to hurt her. She expected too much of him. He was taking out his rage out on the people at school. He felt absolutely nothing. When you're mad you don't think. You can't think because you're just so charged with anger…

In the last few minutes before he died, before the SWAT team came into his room he took off his jacket and the tube of pink lip-gloss fell out. He looked at it and he knew that Addie was never going to see her brother again…. Alive. He didn't think about it because he put the tube back as he waited because he knew that they were coming. He was shaking but he couldn't stop the shaking. He fucked up his life so much. He would never be able to go back. Killing himself was his first option. That was his original plan. He wanted to kill himself in front of his class but he stopped himself.

The doors swung open and the SWAT team surrounded him. He brought his hands up. He was smug. As he pulled the fake trigger, and then quickly reached for his gun put it was too late as he fell to the ground. The blood spilling over the carpet. He was still alive for a brief second. When a person dies their brain still works for at least two minutes. He always thought that it was just adjusting for the person to cross over. But the sad thing was he would never cross over. He would forever be a tormented souls stuck with all his regrets and his baggage in that house for everyone who came to see. He died, but he didn't really. He had turned into a ghost and saw his body. It was creepy. It was like watching yourself sleep. Except this wasn't a nightmare but it was a reality.

But he was the boy who blocked his own shot…

**Review? **


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